


Little Monsters

by WandererRiha



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Let Them Hug, Monsters, Toy boat, giant's egg, poor kids deserved better, they grow up so fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: What happened after Six was stolen by the Thin Man?
Relationships: Mono & Six (Little Nightmares), Six & The Thin Man (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Little Monsters

She screamed when he grabbed her, screamed again when he set her down somewhere new, somewhere she did not recognize, somewhere far away from the boy with the bag on his head. She never had learned his name. This room was all wrong, the floor occupying the space where the wall should be, and the doors jutting sideways; open, but too high to climb out. As soon as he set her down she darted for the farthest corner, casting desperately for anything that she could use to defend herself. Although the room was littered with debris- broken toys, torn bits of fabric, a dirty rug- none of it would make even the pretense of a weapon. There was likewise nowhere to hide. Although there was no lamp, no windows, the room was filled with a purple-pink haze that seemed to carry a light of its own. She couldn’t decide if that made the Thin Man more terrifying or not.

He took a step toward her, uneven floorboards not even creaking under his feet. She shied back, curling into a ball, hardly daring to peek past her arms as she crossed them over her head. He stared at her, face shadowed by the brim of his hat. With an eerie grace, he crouched down and extended one endlessly long arm and held out his hand. Palm up, spider-like fingers relaxed, the gesture almost looked friendly. Familiar, somehow. She shrank back, trying to make herself even smaller, snarling and snapping. It might not be much, but she had nails and teeth and she’d use both if she had to.

Strangely, the Thin Man withdrew his hand and regarded her, head tilting at an inquisitive angle. He pondered for a moment longer, and then reached into the depths of his jacket. Drawing out a small folded square, he snapped it sharply, the object popping open into a brown paper grocery bag. In one fluid motion, he removed his hat, and placed the bag over his head. She gasped. The eye holes cut into the paper gave the otherwise featureless mask a friendly air. It seemed to change the Thin Man’s poker-like body into something softer, kinder, familiar.

Wait.

Uncurling, she edged forward for a better look. Could it be? Was it really him? He held out a hand, more cautiously this time, every bit as afraid as she was herself. Without realizing, she felt her hand close around his forefinger. She’d expected it to be cold and clammy, like that of a corpse, like the floppy leather faces the Viewers wore to hide the fact that they had none. Instead, the too-long digit was strangely warm and soft. Almost human. The finger curled just a little, enough to fold her hand to his.

She stood still while he hesitantly reached with his free hand to touch her raincoat, her grimy bare feet, and gingerly, gently brush her bangs from her eyes. From behind the bag came the whisper of a sniff, a muffled hiccup. When he lifted his hand to cradle one side of her face, she didn’t flinch or even blink. She put her hand over his to steady it, and soothe away the shaking. He bowed his head, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Stepping forward, she stretched and latched her arms around him in a hug.

It was him. It could be no one else. If it wasn’t she’d have surely been eaten or dismembered by now. Perhaps she might yet be thrown in a cage, but this was looking more and more unlikely. He was still crying behind his mask, although he no longer seemed so sad. Stroking a hand over her head, he gave her a final squeeze and set her back down on the floor. She smiled for him, took his hand, and led him over to one of the sideways doors. However, he did not budge.

Instead, he seemed to collapse in on himself, shoulders hunching in defeat. The room flickered, the pink mist swirling sickeningly, and the doors vanished. Panicked, her eyes darted about the room, frantic for escape. A tiny vent with a broken cover was now the only way out of the empty room. Her mouth fell open as understanding dawned: he could not leave.

It wasn’t that he was too big, or the vent too small. He was tied to this building now, trapped in this space between. He took her hand in both of his, held it a moment, and then let go. If she wanted to leave, he would not stop her, but he could not follow. She looked at him for a moment, then at the vent, and back again. Her feet carried her to the vent and stopped. Looking over her shoulder, she blinked.

The Thin Man was gone. In his place stood the little boy with the bag over his head. All thoughts of escape vanished, and she ran to clobber him in a fierce hug. Both of them fell to the dirty rug in a tangle of arms and legs. There was a new bruise on her knee, but she didn’t care. They were together now. If he lived here, then she would too.

\--

All grownups were monsters, but not all Monsters were grownups. She did not remember where she’d heard that, or when she learned it. It had always been inside her head. She’d always known there was Monster in her heart, and in his too. Perhaps that was why she had been afraid of him at first. She wasn’t now.

He did not show her everything, nor did he did forbid her access to any area, though learning to navigate the continually changing hallways proved a bit of a challenge. Soon enough, however, they were playing elaborate games of tag through the endless doors. They each had their own rooms. His had only a chair, though hers gradually began to fill with things that she had lost: toys, books, pictures, and eventually the music box.

He put a hand over hers to stop her from winding it, caution in ever fiber of his body. She stopped at once, frozen, unsure what she’d done wrong. He placed both hands on the music box, studying it, and then looked up at her earnestly. Pleading. Terrified. Why? She tried to remember.

Memories were precious. Joy was forbidden. Love in any form was dangerous. The gentle music, sad and sweet, was the oldest thing in her memory. The last surviving thing of an age before terror and darkness. If she were to wind it now, it might be stolen from her. If she had learned nothing else, she had learned never to trust one’s surroundings. He might be safe enough, but the building obviously was not. Looking back at him, she placed her hands over his.

The air fizzed red and purple and she inhaled as electricity sparked through her. She stumbled back, fell to the floor, gasping. He came over at once and helped her up. The music box sat smoking with...magic? Miasma? She wasn’t sure. This time when she put her hand to the crank, she paused. Looking back, she waited for his nod of approval before turning the crank and filling the purple air with music.

It felt safer, warmer somehow. As if an empty space inside her had been filled. He came over and put a hand on her shoulder. Smiling, she leaned against him a little bit. The music pushed against the pink and purple, elbowing around and through the thick static of magic that filled every corner of the Signal Tower. She could almost feel herself growing and stretching with it, forcing it to make room for her. Part of herself existed in the music now, and pushed and pulled and stretched until it had found all the blank spaces the Signal Tower could hold.

The music petered out as her hand fell from the crank and she collapsed against him, exhausted. He put one long arm around her, holding her steady, and she wound one equally long arm around him. Looking up, she was a little surprised yet not afraid to find the bag had vanished. Instead his face was hidden by the shadow of his hat. He’d become the Thin Man again. Yet she was every bit as long and tall as he was now. She looked at her thrice-jointed arms and legs, at her long hair, and then back at him. She couldn’t see it, but she felt sure he was smiling. He stroked a hand over her head and gently tilted her chin up with one finger. Yes. He was smiling. She felt herself smile as well. All grownups were monsters, but not all Monsters were grownups. She knew what they were both like inside. Leaning a bit further, she touched her forehead to his. It was enough. They could be Monstrous together.

**Author's Note:**

> The music box is Six's Giant's Egg. Her heart was in it. In smashing it, little Mono destroyed any chance of escape for Six as badly as she did for him.


End file.
